


Off To Oxenfurt

by AutoTragedyCollection



Series: A Storyteller At Heart [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Enemies, Foreshadowing, Mother-Son Relationship, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Other, Pre-Canon, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutoTragedyCollection/pseuds/AutoTragedyCollection
Summary: The year is 1236, Jaskier, or as he is currently known, Julian Alfred Pankratz, is 14 and has just arrived at Oxenfurt. It's the begnning of his journey towards a knew life, his old one not being quite all that it seems.Part of a series but can be read alone.
Series: A Storyteller At Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784794
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Off To Oxenfurt

**Author's Note:**

> As I am posting this now it is the 6th part of the series. It's actually the first and will be arranged as such.

Julian ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his tunic with his free hand. This was it. This was the future he wanted, or a step toward it at least.

The gates of Oxenfurt academy stood tall and open before him. Ivy climbed high over his head, luscious and green. The stone work was old, but well kept, and rows of flowers lined the base and the road leading him forward. Trimmed apple trees dotted the courtyard by the neat paths that lead to different buildings. He could already see students sitting under them and reading.

He was struck by the way all of his nerves relaxed. The only thing he could think is that this must be home, he was not born in Lettenhove, not meant to be kept away instructed by a private tutor, he was meant to be here. Surrounded by the stunning walls, and excited students- historians, herbalists, and learned troubadours alike. 

"You're going to sing beautiful songs someday, Julian." The words of one of his family servants, Elspeth, echoed in his ears over the humdrum of the city behind him.

"Oxenfurt will help you get there. You should ask your father."

The night she'd spoken to him, he'd woken up from an awful dream. In it, his mother had burned his lute. It had filled him with misery to hear such delicate and fine wood crack under the heat. He'd watched it smolder with a bitter heart and crept out of bed to the servants quarters with tears streaking down his cheeks to find his one true friend.

She'd once been his wet-nurse, and he'd always been particularly close to her, far closer than to his own parents, even his rather doting father. Sometimes he even thought he looked like her; he had the same chestnut hair, and dimple when he smiled. Perhaps it was because they spent so much time together.

Elspeth loved to tell him stories of her youth, before the Great Cleansing when she'd traveled the continent. She was a soothsayer, and had spent many of her days predicting the health of crops and babes alike. She'd married young couples and blessed the sick to ease their passing. She believed it to be her task from Melitele, and she had only left that path when she received a premonition from the Goddess telling her to come to Lettenhove.

That night, at his request, she had tossed the bones she kept from her youth, and read them. She had refused the task on all other occasions, claiming the knowledge to be too much of a burden for one so young. She only relented when he explained his nightmare to her, and proceeded henceforth with all seriousness.

She looked at them long and hard before murmuring, "Oh how loved you will be, t’will only be rivaled by how much you give. You will write songs that breath life back into frozen hearts, you will make history, child."

He'd scoffed, but she slapped at his wrist. "The bones don't lie. They never lie. You’ve a responsibility now that you know." But then she'd softened, and took his hand gently, "Fear won't hide you from fate, little Julian. Embrace your life, even when it hurts, for it is the only one you are permitted. You are not a slave to destiny, only a thread in the story she weaves. You can choose how brightly you shine." She tucked him back into bed, kissing the top of his head in parting, and he rested more confident in his future than he'd ever been.

"I wish I were Elspeth's son, she'd bring me to Oxenfurt." He'd muttered to his mother when she refused his request without so much as an explanation. She stilled and looked at him so coldly, and then she was storming away towards his chambers. He chased after her, only arriving in time to see his lute thrown into the hearth. He'd apologized and begged at her feet, but she said nothing, she wouldn't even look at him. When he went to find Elspeth, she had disappeared. The next day he confronted his father, and after lengthy discussion it was agreed he would go to Oxenfurt. He would continue to have access to his father’s wealth, but would never take over his father's power, which would instead be given to his older sister Maribella. Julian thought this more than fair as he never had interest in the position or it’s titles. Though for the sake of pride, and certainly not because of the bitter looks from mother, he resolved not to tap into their coin unless it was necessary. Despite the fact that his father had reassured him he’d always be able to come home, Julian wasn’t sure he would have an exactly warm welcome.

In the weeks before his leaving, he dared not speak to his mother. He found he did not even miss her, though it may have been more that he resented her for destroying his most prized possession and coincidentally the only gift Elspeth had ever given him. Or that the more he thought about their relationship, he realized how generally unkind and calloused she’d been with him, in contrast to how she’d treated his sister.

As he entered the gates he wished more than ever that he could send Elspeth a letter. How right she'd been. The sun itself kissed his head, offering her blessing in Elspeth’s stead, and the wind spurred him sweetly onward in the pace of her hand at his shoulder. 

Now if only he could find the administrators building, or wherever Dean Torrowood would be?

He was about to open an archway door when it swung open, smacking directly into his face and nearly knocking him over.

"Begging your pardon, didn't see you there!" A high, though undoubtedly male voice came from in front of him, distracting Julian from the pain in his nose.

He looked up to find a boy about his age in front of him. He had curling blonde hair tucked behind his ears, and truthfully, rather stunning green eyes, which were complemented by the olive scholarly robes he wore.

"Oh- Not at all, my apologies for loitering by the door." Julian ran a hand through his hair in an attempt at confident nonchalance. "My name is Julian, Julian Pankratz."

"Valdo Marx." The boy extended his arm for a firm hand-shake. He squeezed just a bit too hard to be strictly polite, but Julian found he didn't mind all that much. Not when those eyes were on him.

"I'm looking for Dean Torrowood, I'm supposed to begin classes and I've a letter from my father to give him."

"Well, for starters you're on the wrong side of the grounds." Valdo announced with only a bit of sneer and a wave of his hand. "Come on, I'll show you around a bit." 

They chattered as they walked, and when eventually they stopped in front of a great oak door in one of dozens of hallways he’d been led through, Valdo paused.

"This is him.” But then he squinted. “Pankratz you said?"

"Yes, why?" Julian adjusted the satchel on his shoulder, suddenly feeling nervous as he took in the appraising look.

"I wondered if the Viscount would get rid of you. Is it true you were born of a common whore? Or was it a servant bitch? I can't remember."

"What?" Julian blanched.

"It's rumored amongst nobles from Kerrack to Cidaris, don't tell me you haven't heard." Valdo's mouth hung open stupidly in feigned shock.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Julian replied coldly, trying to ignore the hard pit forming in his throat.

"So it's true then? How did you even look the Viscountess in the eye?" He barked an ugly laugh.

"How do you expect to become a poet if you don't even have the tact to charm a bastard whelp like myself? Really it's tragic to force the professors to waste their time. I expect I won't have to put up with your sorry arse for very long." Julian held his chin high, and with that, he turned away and marched into the office. He noticed with a hint of pride that Valdo didn't manage to stutter out another reply.

His new-found enemy's words would only begin to sink in that night.

Julian settled quickly into his new dormitory, he would only have it to himself for a short while, so he was determined to enjoy the freedom while he had it.

As he laid in bed he thought about his life, and the journey that had brought him. If Valdo's words had any truth to them, he could only hope that Elspeth was his mother. At least then he had a face to picture, though the ache of losing her hurt more sharply than ever at the thought. Clinging to that idea, he slipped into a blissfully dreamless sleep, swearing off all speculation about how he had been a mistake, and that the mother he thought he knew had never truly loved him.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Like I said this is actually a new first part to the series, and I have two more to place between this and [ A Willing Audience ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24658384) so if you're finding this series for the first time, hello, and if you are not finding this for the first time and are subscribed to this series, hello! You are in the right place. In total, counting the stories I have written this series is now going to be about 20 parts long. (That number grows every day because I'm addicted to plotting now that I know how to do it.) But I hope to put out another part very soon (a new part two and three). In the mean time, feel free to read the other parts of this series, they are all connected, but all the works I've posted can be enjoyed separately.  
> And feel free to reach out to me on my 


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